The tree-house was alive with the chatter of friends sharing their experiences. Dinner had been finished; Roxton was still nibbling at the crumbs left on his plate. Beside him, Malone was just finishing his recitation.

"Vikings?" Challenger asked incredulously as he pushed his plate away, "Now how, I wonder did they end up here on the plateau?"

"I've been thinking about that," Malone replied. "My mother used to tell a story... it is almost a family myth ... how her ancestors had explored North America long before Columbus, before Leif Ericson, and returned with glowing stories of the new land. Those stories apparently inspired others to explore beyond the known world. The original ship left again to explore further south. It never returned, but there were rumours that they had found a new home where the trees and animals were bigger and more plentiful ... "

"The animals are definitely bigger," Finn mumbled causing Veronica to snigger.

The journalist continued, "Family legend holds that I had a relative on that voyage. The Viking, the one who looked so very much like me, he could be my great -- many times great -- uncle.

Challenger excitedly exclaimed, "you have prior ties to the plateau! You were drawn to that time and place! Now, I was in the far future ... I've always thought I was ahead of my time ... There, the machine rulers were dedicated to destroying me and my work. They searched me out. Veronica, of course, remained in the tree-house. Finn was returned to her original time." Marguerite stood and collected some of the plates. She took them into the kitchen as the professor continued, "Roxton, is it possible that you have family ties to these conquistadors?"

The hunter's face went blank. His family tie wasn't something he was eager to share, but neither was he good at dissimulating.

"I don't think the Roxton family can lay claim to any conquistadors in their family tree," Marguerite offered as she walked back toward the table, "the Kruxs on the other hand ..." she gave one of her enigmatic smiles as she drifted off leaving them to draw their own conclusions.

"So, Marguerite was the reason you were drawn back to that time," Challenger mused, "You, Roxton, were apparently there only because the two of you were together when the distortion hit."

Only Roxton noticed as Marguerite surreptitiously slipped from the room. As Challenger continued a highly animated explanation of his theory, Roxton rose and quietly withdrew from the room.

Marguerite was standing silently staring into the dark jungle. Her hands rested lightly on the railing. She didn't have to look to know who was joining her on the balcony.

Roxton leaned back against the rail and let his eyes caress her shadowed face. "Thanks," he said simply. Without looking away from the moonlit trees, she smiled and answered, "I think we're all entitled to a few secrets."

"But not from each other," he amended.

A troubled look crossed her face and she opened her mouth as if to speak, then stopped. She craned her neck to look into the great room where Challenger was now standing, one foot on a chair, speaking excitedly to his tiring audience. She turned back to her study of the trees saying, "Looks like George is back to describing his 'perfect execution' of throwing his knife."

Roxton chuckled, "For the fourth or fifth time." He turned to face the jungle, moving closer to Marguerite at the same time. He put his hand on the rail and slid it over until his little finger was touching hers. After staying quiet for a long while, he stubbornly returned to the subject she was avoiding. "There is no reason to keep it all bottled up," he coaxed, "not any more."

"John ... " she started warningly.

"After all we've been through together, you can't really think that anything from the past would change how I feel."

"I keep remembering those things you said in the cave."

"Marguerite," his hand crept over the top of hers and he squeezed it gently, "I was frustrated. I never meant -- I'm sorry," he finished lamely.

"We both said and did things we shouldn't have." She started to pull her hand away, but he held tight. Finally, she met his eyes, "You know that we can't possibly work off this plateau."

"If that's true, then I never want to leave."

She turned back to the darkness.

After a quick look inside to see if they were being observed, Roxton let go of her hand, took her chin, and forced her to face him again. "It doesn't matter where we are; I promised that I would never let you go and I never will. I love you, Marguerite, whether here, in London, Shanghai, or the moon, that won't change."

"I want to believe that," she whispered, but her expression voiced strong doubts.

"Believe it," he promised. "I don't guarantee that I won't lose my temper again," he added lightly and was rewarded by her involuntary smile.

In the silence, George Challenger's voice could clearly be heard saying, "It was a throw worthy of Veronica!"

Marguerite stifled a laugh while Roxton shook his head and turned his attention to the jungle. "As glad as I am that everyone is back, it would be nice to have a little privacy."

"We could talk later," she suggested tentatively, "over a cup of your wonderful coffee."

The hunter was taken completely by surprise, "Tonight?"

"Unless," she touched his hand suggestively, "unless you have other plans?"

"No," he was quick to agree, "coffee would be perfect." As her fingers continued to trace unknown patterns on his hand, he added with a leer in his eyes, "It may lead to more than coffee."

"I'm counting on it," the heiress replied.

They were interrupted by a squeal from inside before either could say more.

"I suppose," Marguerite said, "we should see what's going on."

Disappointed by the interruption, but mollified by their planned assignation, Roxton sighed, "I suppose." Hand at the small of her back, he escorted the raven haired beauty back into the great room.

Challenger was taking a small jar from Finn. Veronica and Malone were also intently studying the jar.

"What is it?" Roxton asked.

Without looking, Veronica answered, "The beetle, Arthur."

"I'm not sure he is -- was -- actually a beetle," the professor countered, "He spun a cocoon which we all know would be quite an aberration for a beetle. And now, the cocoon had been shed,"

"So where is the butterfly?" Marguerite asked straining to see over Malone's shoulder.

Challenger removed the lid and knocked the empty cocoon out onto the table. "Whatever he became, it's not here now."

"I wonder if we'll ever find out," Roxton mused.

"Another mystery of this enigmatic plateau," the professor replied.

end.